


He Loves Her

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: BIGBANG - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: BaeDae - Freeform, Diabetes comin' at chu live, F/M, GTOP, Genderbending, all fluff, daeri - Freeform, gdyb - Freeform, topri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only so many words someone can use to express how much they love their significant other, only so many hours in the day to tell them that. The men of Bigbang are no different, lost for words when ever they see the women they love.</p><p>(Cross-posted from AFF)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elegant (Seungri x fem!TOP)

Seungri had always felt inferior around Seunghyun. 

He didn't know what it was about her - none of the other male members made him feel this way, just her - but he always felt like he was small, insignificant in her world. She was the oldest, she had a deeper voice than all of the members (initially putting their monhood to shame) and she had a sense of class and cold aloofness about her that made her seem untouchable. It wasn't too bad when her Bingu side emerged, or when she got silly, but it never went away. Just changed. 

Seungri had originally asked her out because he was tired of doubting himself and tripping over his feelings when she was in the room. Needless to say, he was stuck dumb when she said yes, only Jiyong's sharp bark of sarcastic laughter breaking him out of it. 

Their first date was nearly a disaster, but she found his fumbling adorable, he supposed, smiling and laughing through it all. He'd messed up their reservations, discovered to late that his best jacket was horribly stained and that the pale orange dress shirt he had borrowed from Jiyong was the wrong colour against his skin. They had wound up in a burger chain, the only customers milling around nearing eleven at night. Seunghyun had been breathtaking, too. Her hair was still the brilliant turquoise she'd dyed it, her black roots only vaguely staring to show, but the silver sheath dress she'd chosen complimented it well, as well as her sterling silver jewelry. Looking back, he was still surprised with how much they laughed that night, how stunning she'd been for something so mundane, how much of a wreck he must have appeared as. He still remembered the looks of the cashiers, wondering how a woman like  _her_  had wound up with a guy like  _him._

"You're thinking too hard again. You might blow a fuse at this rate."

Seungri refocused on the present, drinking in the picture his Seunghyun made. 

She had changed a lot over the years, from a tomboy to the epitome of lady-like class. She was sitting now in a matching shimmering grey pencil skirt and blazer, a partially unbuttoned blouse flashing just the most tantilizing hint of collarbone. Her heels were tall, her legs cloaked in black pantyhose. She wasn't the most modest girl, for sure, but she hated to reveal her skin. Yongbae had once mentioned something about her being conscious of her body image since the trainee days, having been rejected originally because of it. He could understand that, but didn't she see now that she was beautiful?

Her silver wedding ring glinted in the Parisian lights. 

Her hair was long, having grown it out to match her look and letting it just go when it reached past her shoulderblades. The tips of it swayed now around the tops of her hips, the strands a rich, inky, natural black, her makeup the same stark monochrome, highlighting her eyes and her cheekbones. Her nails were painted silver, too, probably by Daesung before they left. 

The table they were sitting at was designed after outdoor cafe tables, made of thick metal wires twisted and hooked around each other to create a see-through, but useable surface. 

"You're so beautiful."

She looked at him, white wine swirling in the glass she just picked up. Her eyes were always a blaze of black fire, heat searing through him whenever she pinned him with her gaze. An eyebrow cocked, she offered him a crooked, if disbelieving, grin. "Am I now?"

"Absolutely." His answer may have been breathless, but it was immediate. And still, even after all this time, she didn't know how to handle compliments. She just huffed, like he lied to her about it, and took a sip of the wine in her hand. 

"If you say so."

"All of Korea says so."

She did snort this time, not bothering to fix the lock of hair that fell over her shoulder. "Only when I'm not compared to other female idols."

She wasn't usually this self-depreciating, only nervously letting the compliment pass. But sometimes, she did feel it. She was different from the other idols of her caliber - constantly in comparison to 2NE1 - with her deep voice, strikingly sharp features, tall and imposing build. Not to mention all of the creative crazy that spilled out of her when Jiyong loosened the leashes on them. She wasn't two dimensional, but she had difficulty breaking from the mould completely, it providing a comfortable hiding spot when an idea of hers didn't go well. 

Seungri found her fascinating. That's what first attracted him, all of her different and varied sides. She was always changing, evolving, letting her inner self guide her choices. Had he had the misfortune of getting her in a moment when she was in her stage persona, he might have been turned down for their first date and wouldn't be here. They wouldn't be celebrating their second year of marriage in Paris, the city lights casting a radiant shadow across Seunghyun's angular, perfect face. 

Her ring tapped the glass as she pinned him down again with her gaze. "Will you be honest with me, Seungri?"

He smiled at her. "Of course."

"Why did you chose me?"

He blinked at her. 

She looked back down at her wine, uncharacteristically shy. "Out of all the women you had crawling after you, you chose me. Why?"

"Oh, well. That's easy." He grinned at her. "I knew I would never find another one of you, so I had to take my chances."

She looked dubious. 

"Why did you agree?"

An involuntary smile came to her lips as she observed the bubbles in her glass. "Even though I thought you were too young for me, I liked the give and take, the sass. Plus . . . you were hard to read. I didn't know whether it was a joke or truth. So . . . " She cast him a sly look. " . . . I took my chances."

He chuckled. "I can honestly say I don't regret it."

She smiled back, her shy introvert reappearing. "Me neither."

Yes, Seunghyun had very quickly taken over Seungri's whole world. She didn't have to try for his interest, walked right into his daydreams, received the key to his heart after only asking for it and claimed the throne at the center of his universe when she agreed to marry him. She commanded him, through and through. 

Sure, he still felt small, like the most miniscule of blips on her radar, but she had noticed him, singled him out from all of the men trying to grab her attention (whether she knew that's what they were doing or not) and just handed him her heart one day. 

They sat across from each other, the distance just enough that he couldn't reach across comfortably. Her body language spoke coldly, closed-off from affectiona dn touch. She never appreciated PDA in places like this, where she was eye-level with her audience or there was one. While Seungri was the opposite - thriving on making as many people uncomfortable as possible while getting the most pleasure himself - but he respected Seunghyun's wishes. Not to mention how her attitude changed when they were  _out_  of the spotlight. 

Seunghyun was possibly the most fierce lover Seungri had ever had. 

She was raw and physical, getting a real kick out of seeing her soft black leather collar around his neck, the accompanying chain clamped tightly in her fist. And there was just something about her on top of him like that, using only her unwavering stare to immobilize him. To be at her mercy, get to watch her pleasure, see her hair turn to damp ink as she moved. She would never be as fluid in her movements as he was, or any of the other members, who were all dancers, but she made up for it in domineering force, with the sheer amount of power in her thighs, the desperation and longing she poured into every tangled kiss. He liked it just as much as she did. Especially during adventurous midnight sessions where he would turn on her, forcing her into physical submission, his leash taunt in her hands, never getting away with more than she wanted, captured by her no matter which way he turned, no matter what he did. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, he would come home to find her sitting on the windowsill, an oversized dress shirt hanging off her loosely as she read a book, the black leather hooked around her neck. 

"Give and take." She'd whisper into his ear when he picked up the chain, tugging her toward him with the gentlest of motions, knowing she would follow him without force. "I'm yours, Seunghyun."

Even here, he was at her whim, set to satisfying her before himself. She made his head spin, laid out before him, a shuddering and mewling mess, so different from her usual cool and complete self. Moments like that, caught only in darkness, moonlight and the bedsheets, that she was completely his, would never dream of looking elsewhere.

He snapped back to the present when he felt a flick to his forehead. Of course she could reach across the table, her arms were longer than his. She was smiling, though, a soft and delicate thing. "What's on your mind?"

He shook his head with a smile, catching her hand to kiss the back of it. "Just you."

She nodded, turning back to the view over the city. He returned to watching her, letting his feelings for her swim through him. He hadn't been easy to pin down when he was younger, certainly debated never getting married, but she had changed everything for him, simply by being Bigbang's tomboy rapper. 

And he loved her for it even more every time he looked at her.


	2. Artistic (TOP x fem!GD)

As a trainee, Seunghyun had never been quite aware of the kind of soft social condemnation Jiyong faced. 

He was the third member of Bigbang when they were formed, Jiyong and Yongbae already being close friends and well-rounded associates. It had been a long time since he'd seen her and time had only made her more beautiful, even when he barely cracked his eighteenth year. She was small, sure, but she worked just as hard, if not harder, than her male counterparts, even after Daesung and Seungri were added. 

None of the members put up a fuss when they were informed Jiyong would be their leader. None of them made any comments, either right there or in secret later, doubting her ability to lead them and she had never failed to live up to her promise - she walked ahead of them bravely, breaking down all of their barriers and forcing them into the spotlight. She never touted herself as above any other member, especially after they all settled down together and had established enough common ground to form a loose, rowdy kind of rag-tag friendship. She kept them in line, held them to her high standards, but was never afraid to give them the push or boost they needed to reach it. She guided them towards flawlessness and wasn't afraid to tell them that, to work them harder and get dirty right along with them, force herself just as hard. She was their leader, not their mother. They were all on the same level, all equals and all valued for their individual talents and skills. Maybe without even knowing it, Jiyong was the colourful mortar that kept the slightly crooked mosaic of Bigbang intact.

It took a while, though, for Seunghyun to notice why Jiyong was always tense before interviews, always quiet after them.

_"What's it like being the only girl in Bigbang?"_

_"You're good friends with the girls from 2NE1, wouldn't you be more comfortable in that group?"_

_"Do you plan on working with 2NE1 in the future?"_

_"Has it been hard as a girl to lead this group of talented men?"_

_"Do you ever feel out of place as the only girl?"_

_"Do you ever wish you could join 2NE1?"_

_"I imagine your men get rowdy once you leave. Have you ever been caught in their activities?"_

_"Would you ever consider dating one of the members?"_

_"When do you think you'll have children?"_

_"Who writes the songs in Bigbang? Who writes the songs on your solo albums?"_

_"You must have a large hand in the style coordination of the group."_

_"How did a girl make it into a male group?"_

Jiyong always bore her burdens so effortlessly. She didn't let the other members know that the questions struck chords in her, enflamed a surge of resentment in her chest, sometimes made her feel inferior. No, she would never let anyone know that. That would mean she was fumbling as a leader, and she would never forgive herself for that. No matter what anyone had to say, how many times the subject of her gender was brought up, she was the face of Bigbang and she would make others  _crawl_  just to be in her presence. 

It was around the seventh year after their debut that it finally struck Seunghyun, though, how much blatant sexism was directed Jiyong's way, how they minimized her role in the group, subtly inserted Yongbae into her place as the leader, sometimes even Seunghyun himself (God knows if he was in charge of the group, it would have crashed and burned a long time ago - there was no one more qualified in Bigbang to lead it than Jiyong herself).

"TOP, how much of this album did you write?" One of the hosts asked,  sexism veiled in politeness.

"Almost none of it." He answered, deciding last-second to throw the bland truth in their faces. "I mean, we all work with Jiyong on the verses we plan on performing, but she's constantly writing, mixing. Jiyong does almost all the work. I just show up and rap."

She cast him a look from the side, faint surprise deep in those chocolate depths. 

"Really?" The host was taken aback.

His brows furrowed. "Why is that so unbelievable?"

The host tried to backpedal, called out on his shit. "She just doesn't seem like the kind of person to stay up all hours writing and composing songs with how good she looks."

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow instead of getting angry. "You could ask her directly, you know. She's right here beside me."

The host shut up, another one quickly trying to recover the light mood of the show. Seunghyun caught Jiyong's small smile, though, the fire that sprang up in her eyes and the silent  _thank you_  that passed between them when he met her gaze out of the corner of his eye. A small, curt nod and her smile became a grin.

That had been a while ago, now.

After that interview, the questions had come stronger. This time, Jiyong stood against them, broke through the barrier with her boys at her back, helping to push her forward. When a host would subtly insult her, Seungri would leap in, his words a biting whip made of his signature brand of sarcasm, sass, indignation and just enough playfulness to not be offensive but to sink home his point. Yongbae would politely repeat the question, think for a moment, then pass it off to Jiyong as though he hadn't the answer. Daesung would pull the audience in, hook the hosts, then slide the topic Jiyong's way, especially if it was music/composition related. And Seunghyun . . . Well, he defended her when she wasn't there to protect herself. Since the launch of his newest album, he was splattered all over billboards and variety shows. And, at least once, Jiyong's gender and group role was called into question. He got particularly biting during that time, never one to temper the expression of his emotions. 

He had walked in from the kitchen one evening while his bandmates were over to find them situated around his television, watching an interview he had forgotten he'd done. He clearly remembered why he had wanted to forget it, though. 

_"Be honest with me, TOP."_

_"Of course."_

_"Do you work closely with your bandmates during projects?"_

_"We come and go as we're needed, sleeping at all different hours of the day. A lot of the time, though, we're all there together, working collectively."_

_"What's recording like?"_

_"Hectic, I think would be the best word. The only thing that keeps us together during recording is G-Dragon. She almost never leaves the studio when we're doing projects. She's constantly writing and composing and mixing - I can never keep up with her pace."_

_"Does it bother you?"_

_"What?"_

_"That G-Dragon controls your recording so firmly?"_

On-screen, his face scrunched up, mildly offended.  _"Why would it?"_

_"Well, what does she really know about recording? She's the second-oldest only and she's a woman."_

Seunghyun watched the tension in Jiyong, Yongbae's hand unconsciously coming to her thigh. He settled his own on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. On screen, TOP's face fell into a perfect mask. He stood, bowed stiff and formal, before doing up his suit jacket and proceeding to walk off-stage.  _"Thank you for interviewing me."_

_"TOP, wait! Come back! We're not finished."_

He paused just within the camera's range, face still blank, but eyes ablaze.  _"Bigbang and its members owe their collective and individual success solely to Kwon Jiyong, the woman I am fortunate enough to get to call my leader and my friend. For the effort and passion she pours into her work, her members, Bigbang and the VIPs, she deserves infinitely more fame and love than what she gets. I can't stop you from speaking down on or slandering her, but I'll have no part of it. She is my leader, from the moment Bigbang assembled to the moment we disband. Long before that and long after, she was and will be one of my most beloved friends."_  And he left with ten more minutes of scheduled time left. 

The show cut to ads and Jiyong was standing, rounding the couch and pulling him into a crushing hug. He didn't make mention of the wetness he could feel soaking into his shirt, only wrapped his arms around her in return.

"Oh, noona." Daesung cooed, coming from behind to wrap his arms around her too, softly kissing her head. 

Seungri was stuck, looking like he wanted to swaddle Jiyong and hug her to death while also glaring at the tv like he would put his fist through it any moment. Yongbae simply patted Seunghyun's shoulder, kissed Jiyong's purple hair and excused himself to the kitchen. 

Jiyong never cried in front of them, hid all the weakness she could. This was dangerously close to the edge for her and they all knew it. 

* * *

The spotlights blinded him for a moment as he snapped back to the present, Jiyong's unmistakeable entrance onto the MAMA stage just as brilliant, flashy and crazy as every one before. 

Her hair was a fiery red, her shoes six-inch stiletto heels, shiny and bright white. She strutted across the stage, never missing a bit, the opening rap falling from her lips with practised ease. Her black skinny jeans fitted her just this side of loose, her black turtleneck much tighter. The neon paint splattered white dress shirt was open and hanging off her shoulders, a red skirt falling off her hips the same colour as her hair. 

He smiled a little ruefully to himself - Jiyong never kept the same hairstyle long enough to let it grow out any significant length, forever changing and re-dying it. 

It had been a few years since he had returned from his military service, ecstatic when he had to find Jiyong waiting for him at the airport, leaning against her Ferrari with teal hair and his engagement ring shimmering splendidly in the sunlight. 

Up there now, whipping the audience into a ravenous frenzy, her wedding band caught the light just as well. It was one of the few pieces of jewelry she never took off, never exchanged for something new, always on her person. She rocked the stage, getting the audience to scream out her name loud enough to rock the foundations of the earth. 

Over the years, she had spoken up for herself more and more often, until the hosts were nervous to ask her to perform female group songs on variety shows. She made press statements defending her validity not only as an artist, leader and member of Bigbang, but as a human being with talent worth ackowledging.

Seunghyun was more than lucky to have her, in all of her eccentric glory, to come home to or to wait at home for. She was all he had ever wished for in a leader, in a friend, in a woman, in a wife. She understood his strange version of art, accepted his nuances, never stifled his creativity and worked tirelessly to help him in any way she could. 

He had never been totally away of when friend turned into lover and frankly, he didn't think she knew either. It had felt as natural as breathing when he'd slipped the engagement ring on her finger. She didn't even look really surprised, just smiled that dorky gap-smile of hers and threaded their fingers together, going back to working the soundboard. 

She caught his gaze in the crowd and winked his way, rolling her hips just that much more with a flirty grin before she was back across the stage. 

Even now, five years into marriage and almost seventeen (could you believe it) as groupmates, he only grinned back, comfortable standing behind her to help her reach the spotlight. Even if she didn't have to, she always reached back, pulled him along with her. Every time she did, it only reinforced why he loved her so much.


	3. Fluid (GD x fem!Taeyang)

For as long as Jiyong had known her, Yongbae was full of rhythm. 

She was a dancer by nature, her body unable to stop itself from rocking to any tune, any beat worth dancing to. She did it to ones only she could hear, sometimes just stopping whatever she was doing to dance it out.

"I'm no good at sound mixing." She'd explained at one point. "The only way I can express what I hear is to show it. Then it can stop bothering me."

They'd been together a long time, Jiyong and Yongbae. He'd learned to watch her when she danced out her beats. One particularly memorable time, he'd called her in the early hours of the morning, had her come back to the recording studio (despite having only been gone a few hours) because his mix was stuck. He didn't know what was wrong with it, only that it was  _missing_  something, something was  _wrong._  She'd been almost slumped on his shoulder, exhaustion tugging her down, as he'd played it for her.

"What do you want me to do about it, Ji?" She had murmured, voice whispy with waning resolve to remain conscious. At the time, he'd been too lost in trying to fix the mix to be remorseful for the state she was in, nor of what he demanded from her next.

"Dance to it."

She cocked her head at him, coming more awake. Her limbs looked like they were weighed down by enough bricks to build a house and he wanted  _movement_  from her?

After three minutes of watching her move to the beat, Jiyong turned to the sound board, furiously twisting things and adjusting the tune. She passed out on the couch behind him once she'd deemed herself dismissed. And, as the sun's rays hit the YG building bringing the first of dawn with them, Jiyong kissed the sleeping dancer's forehead, the complete and perfect track for  _Fantastic Baby_  playing on loop in the background. 

Yes, Yongbae had taught him a lot about music by what he could see in her body, in the way she moved, and how he could make visible finesse into audible art. But of all of his choices, all of the things he'd done in life, Yongbae was the only thing for which he regretted absolutely nothing. She was his art given motion in their music videos, when they were on stage. Not to mention her voice, how he could harmonize with her, work with her intial training as a rapper to change her singing sound and the subsequent direction of the song.

That wasn't even to mention all the times she'd saved him. Mostly it was small things, things she never acknowledged as anything much but probably kept ten years on Jiyong's lifespan. She would bring him food, water, cleaning supplies, clothes. When she'd get too tired to keep together, she'd make him sleep with her under the pretense of a nap, but they would wake up twelve hours later, tangled together and all too eager to drink some water and go back to sleep. He'd woken up more than once, arms wrapped around her hips, head pillowed on her shoulder or breast, the soothing, slow beat of her heart more of a comfort than he realized he needed. In many ways, even though she was his dongsaeng, he felt like she was a noona. 

Having been around her so long, he had also become somewhat desensitized to any nudity on her part. Yongbae was a dancer, and she had her own comfort zones. As an artist who was far from normal in his field, Jiyong had never seen the point of trying to keep her 'modest' to any great degree. She liked being shirtless, the fans loved it, and she usually got Daesung shirtless too so she wasn't completely alone. She most definitely had a tendency towards stripping - a lifelong grudge against any form of shirt - and the sight of her that way was something so normal he was startled when people made comment on it, comparing her to other female idols. 

"Wel, she'd  _not_  them." He would defend. "She was chosen to be with me in GDYB, and later Bigbang, for a reason. She's unique, like the rest of the members - a better fit for Bigbang than she would be in any other group."

That didn't mean she wasn't feminine - she loved to dance, but dancing in  _heels_  . . . The way her eyes would light up made sure that Jiyong slipped that information to Yongbae's stylist noona. Even in heeled boots or high heels, Yongbae danced so easily and fluidly. He swore he could watch her move for hours, loved to dance with her until they collapsed on the studio floor and had to call Daesung to get them home. She also had no problems with letting him dress her up, do her makeup, play with her hair and its colour, sometimes becoming his personal Barbie at her own expense. 

The pipe organ broke him from his retrospection, along with a sharp elbow from Seungri, who'd won the position of 'closest-to-Jiyong' bestman. The women of 2NE1 were on the other side, all in soft pink knee-length dresses, something Jiyong had picked out. In truth, he'd done almost everything for this event in their lifetime, Yongbae's singular request being that she's allowed to choose and conceal her dress from him.

The doors opened and Jiyong's breath was stolen.

Yongbae always kept the sides of her head shaven, much to the dismay of whomever must have worked on her. Her hair had been bleached white-blonde, event he stubble on the side of her head, the thick stripe of hair down the centre of her head parted down the middle, thousands of thin ringlets raining around her head. Atop her head, there lay a golden laurel, cushioned by her curls, which held up her veil, a small thing that didn't brush her collarbone. And her dress . . . She had kept to the Grecian theme, a gold band shaped like her laurel starting under her right armpit and wrapping across her chest to meet once more over her left shoulder. A solid laurel wreath was was around her waist, the simply patterned and sheer fabric falling loose and airy around her hips, a smooth, caramel leg appearing through a mid-thigh-high slit. Her heels were laced golden, the sole and heel white with small silver accents to give them some sparkle. 

He was almost dumbstruck when her father passed him her hand, almost fell trying to drink her in when he should have been leading her up the small staircase to the altar. The pastor only gave him a knowing smile, Seungri making a quip about how he should have gotten to Yongbae first. Jiyong didn't catch it all, didn't even pay attention to the pastor. When he lifted her veil at the preacher's prompt, he was struck dumb again. 

The veil had a sheen on it, distorting her face, so he hadn't been able to see the baby pink eyeshadow she had across her lids, didn't notice how the black liner around her eyes would make them  _pop_  that much more, how her lips - a washed out pink - looked downright delicious. He couldn't stop staring, especially when she smiled at him so blissfully her eyes retreated to those wonderful cresents. 

"Do you have vows you would like to say?" The pastor questioned just low enough that only the couple could hear him clearly. 

Yongbae nodded, her hand finally reaching out to clasp his. She met his eyes with a small, sweet smile. "We've been together a long time. We began the walk to greatness together, lonely children huddled together with only a dream to our names. Trainees so often share struggles and become friends through them, but perhaps fate was guiding us even then. I've shared a long part of my childhood with you, only you, and built up a bond that only we share. Talent made us a companions, hardship made us friends, Bigbang made us thankful and years made us lovers. We've fought our way uphill for a long time side by side. This is by no means an end, only a precious moment, but I look forward to the challenge once more, this time hand in hand. A handsome man, a wonderful soul, a generous lover and my best friend. I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you forever, Jiyong. My lovely G-Dragon."

A lump formed in Jiyong's throat, tears in his eyes, his hands squeezing hers tightly. She squeezed back gently. "Any man who hears an angel profess her love for him as you've done for me is a blessed man. I am not worthy of your love because I'm so far from the perfection you deserve. You make my heart sing in my chest, the constant rattle of beat and lyric within my mind go silent, my whole world come to a halt when I'm lucky enough to be your audience. You've made all of my success possible - without you, I would have no grounding, no direction, no muse. I'm not the best man in this world, certainly not one who has a right to be here, but there is nothing I will not do to earn this." She looked almost ready to object, but he smiled brightly and squeezed her hands again. "You've given me all of your love so freely. I get to bask in not only your kindness and friendship, but get sole access to you as a lover. You've given me all that you are, entrusted your heart to me, so easily and it is only right that I give you just as much. You're my best friend, my confidant, my . . . my  _wife_. I love you more than I can ever write down, with more passion than I've ever thrown into my work. You're my soulmate, Yongbae. My shining Taeyang."

As if unwillng to break the awed silence from the audience, the pastor's voice was very soft when he spoke again. "With those vows between you and the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jiyong's hand was shaking as he lifted his hand up to cup her cheek, bringing her face forwards without his own consent. Their lips touched in perhaps the most gentle kiss they'd ever shared. They held it there for a long moment, the action all the more intense for its chaste nature.

"I can't believe you're finally mine." He whispered, heedless of the erupting cheers around them. She lit up, grinning brightly at him.

"I've always been yours."

He didn't know if he would ever be able to let her know how much she meant to him, to finally tell her how much he loved her, but he hoped this was a decent starting place. 


	4. Ringing (Taeyang x fem!Daesung)

Yongbae was always stunned by Daesung's talent.

She had a beautiful, raw talent that her vocal teacher had honed to perfection, but she was just as crazy dedicated as a member of Bigbang as Jiyong, in her own way. She had known some piano pre-debut, but she's made sure to hone it more as they progressed through the years, even if it became less and less necessary. Then came her guitar. Then drums. But what caught his attention the most about all of this was the fact that she remained largely silent when she played.

He remembered overhearing part of a nearly  _angry_  (of all things) whisper to Jiyong when they were doing  _Sober_. It was quick, and he didn't remember the words she used, but it was very clear that if she was playing, she had no interest in singing. The leader had very firmly shut her down, face and voice firm but not harsh. 

"Be it now or later, you have to get over it. You're singing during  _Sober_  and that's it." Jiyong had said, turning away from her with clear dismissal. 

No, Daesung didn't play and sing outside of what she was forced to by Jiyong, which Yongbae found perplexing. She had never had a problem singing for him.

* * *

Yongbae rented a three-bedroom apartment simply for the sake of convenience: he wasn't too far from the YG building, almost the same distance between Seunghyun, Seungri and Jiyong's homes. That was when Daesung had approached him, asking tenitively if he would be interested in a flatmate. They had slept together often when they were trainees, slumped on one another after practise or cuddled together in the dorm. On their original tours, she would share either his or Jiyong's bed, the other two apparently too nervous with their female companion to let her that close to them while sleeping. 

Truthfully, Yongbae understood that. In fact, that exact fear had been realized for him about a month before he managed to get his own apartment. He'd woken up with her in his arms, in and of itself not uncommon, but the way he had himself fully plastered to her back with his morning wood none too subtle made him sure that she would never allow herself close to him so intimately again. To her credit, she had only looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. 

"It's natural. Don't think Jiyong hasn't done it."

He'd furrowed his brow, suddenly concerned about his best friend's level of propriety. She had chuckled at him, assuring him that she had gotten up and moving to spare him the humiliation and that it was never a conscious action. Then she threw him a curve ball, thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. 

"This is the only time I've been more than . . . flattered? I don't think that's the right word. But this is the first time it's been more than just an idle curiosity."

Admittedly, he could be a bit slow. Some hints took him a few hours to pick up on, but this one took him three whole days fo puzzling. He didn't think dying his hair blonde had any affect on his brain fuction, but perhaps he was wrong there too. Regardless, it took him three days to figure out she'd dropped a major hint that she at least shared the same sentiment as his body had that night, even if she wasn't as forward. 

So, obviously, when she had timidly approached him two long months after that fateful morning and asked to share his apartment, he gave her an equally disarmed boyish grin and said yes. 

* * *

The apartment had been built with a family in mind, with a massive living/dining area, a decent sized kitchen and two decent bedrooms with an accompanying master, which they used as a makeshift storageroom/studio. She stored an acoustic guitar in there, on she would play whenever Jiyong came over, hungover on a night of binge creativity but couldn't find a tune to fit his lyrics. Thus, the reappearance of guitar in their newest album, but that was besides the point. 

The "dining" area was smaller than the "living" space, but since there were only two people living together and a table just felt too formal, Yongbae had decided his grand piano would go there. And this one piece of polished black furniture was the only thing in the apartment that Daesung absolutely did not touch. Again, it took him far too long to realize why she didn't touch it - she was out of her depth when her skill was compared to his and having spent more nights watching him play than watching their tv, she very acutely felt how outclassed she was. The piano was his baby, a treasure that he polished and cleaned, never allowing for stains or dust to ruin the shining black finish on the beautiful ashwood. 

A lot of the time, he woud play long pianist pieces like Mozart and Beethoven to keep his fingers nimble and his sounds fluid, but occasionally, when he would find something new, be it a piece of his own, like in  _Wedding Dress_ or the strong piano background in Adele's  _Hello_ , he was unafraid to bring it to life on his laquered instrument. 

It was during one of these "moments of weakness" as he closed his eyes and played the more simplistic piece that he was almost shocked into stillness. From with in the open kitchen, Daesung's harmonous voice rose, singing the lyrics unconsciously as she washed their dishes from the last couple of days. 

When she came out, her eyes were closed as she finished off the lyrics, a small smile on her face. When she opened her eyes, she became much more timid, immediately looking away and nervously chuckling out a  _sorry_.

"No, no." He stood immediately, the bench loudly voicing its protest at being moved so suddenly. He held out a hand to her. "No. I really liked that."

She lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Come on." He sat back down, adjusting the bench once more and patting the space beside him. She quietly sat down, hands carefully in her lap, but it only took until halfway through the first song and her head was on his shoulder, eyes closed, voice filling the apartment with the ringing song of an angel. 

She was quick to loosen after that. She would sing with him almost very night, sometimes even making up lyrics as she went to classical pieces he would play. Sometimes as she was singing them, she was writing those songs down - some dark, some romantic, some funny and some somber. One night she even through out her guitar, perched herself up on the black wood and began to see if she could play the guitar along with his piano. 

And while that was all well and good, there was no time as special as one spent on stage. 

Playing together in Seoul, finally being allowed by YG to launch a duet group, Yongbae felt the most connected to her. Sure, this piano wasn't his special one back home, but watching Daesung lay across the belly of his instrument, draped on it like human artwork, it felt almost better than it did back home. 

Most of their songs together were peppy, upbeat things that they would dance to playfully onstage, even if they were all choreographed. A few were more sexual but there was on in particular, a long slow song with only Daesung on vocals and Yongbae flowing through the complicated music. It was here that she would lay herself on the piano, sometimes propped up on her elbows, sometimes not. He could never recall what she was wearing, but because they both went backstage to change, he assumed it was something as dressy as what he wore. It didn't matter. She could be there in nothing or everything and it wouldn't change what it meant to him. 

This wasn't a song for their fans. No, even when they were live, thousands of screaming people cheering them on, a sea of yellow lights highlighting the absolutely massive space just the two of them demanded. No, this was an intimate encounter every time, where the world went silent around them as she gazed at him. He would gaze back, so many nights spent doing this very thing back in the silence of their apartment, filling the emptiness. But there was something more powerful here, surrounded by a mob of devoted fans, all crying out for attention. She was always gentle when she laid down and the sound around him muted. She locked eyes with him, one hand holding onto a microphone. As soon as she started to sing, acapella vocals opening up the song, then his world went silent. All he could hear was her, most of the time not even his own tunes. The only reason he was aware of it was because of the woman he was glued to, how she got even more soulful as the vibrations of the notes rang through her body. She almost cried into the mic. She did it every time, the lyrics reaching her emotional core and yanking on her heartstrings. Each press on the ebony and ivory keys felt like his way of soothing her, like the vibrations were an extension of the way he caressed the keys, the way he wanted to caress her skin, the way he wanted to kiss away the pain in her voice. 

It was never a sexual kind of want. He wanted to hold her, to hold together her melting heart, keep her pieces from falling apart. He wanted to pull her onto her lap, protect her deep in his arms, kiss her forehead and let his affection for her shine through unhindered, unregulated by the constraints of their professions. He wanted to whisper to her on stage the same things he did when they were twisted together in the early hours of the morning; skin, feelings and hearts bared to each other, creeping and growing into each other like the baby pink and cherrywood tones of their hair blended together. He wished they could hold that intimacy all the time, close enough to sync the very breath between them. But this distance made it all the better, the stillness she gave his quivering heart as her head bowed, eyes closing in intensity as her voice rose, no trace of her vocal weakness as she gave all that she had to offer. And when she met his eyes again, softened with tender notes, his fingers played over the ivory the way he wanted to wipe away the tears that escaped her. Sound only slowly drifted back in, bleeding in as her voice faded out on the last, beautiful hanging verses. 

That song always got the most applause. 

As he helped her off the piano, her body shaking with the intensity of her own emotions, he reflected on that. When that song was performed, SOL and D-Lite fell away. Neither of them were performers during that song. They were Dong Yongbae and Kang Daesung, the people behind the idols, and perhaps the audience gravitated to that. They could sense the raw passion revealed only here in public, could practically taste the secret they were being let in on, let the air be stolen from them, allowed themselves to fall to the siren song of his ever-lovely Daesung. 

Yongbae knew better. 

Daesung kissed him as soon as they were out of sight, her hands fisted tightly in his hair as if to assure herself that he was real. It was just as devastating as it was reassuring, letting her know in that second perfect moment that he would remain there for her always. She would part from him then, a shy, secretive smile on her lips as she let herself be dragged away by the wardrobe and makeup noonas. 

He smiled, stupidly happy, to himself all the while he was changed and remade. The audience understood many things from just a performance, but they could never grasp just how much she adored him or how much he loved her. 


	5. Playful (Daesung x fem!Seungri)

Seungri was a trip.

She was giggling herself breathless when she tackled him and couldn't breathe by the time he'd wrestled her to a pin on the grass. Even then, panting and wheezing between shallow laughs and happy tears, she was struggling against him. 

"Yah! Appa's got Eomma! Get him!"

When Daesung felt the little hands of his five year old twins, he reared up, pulling the little ones to his chest and rolling over onto them, laughing and grinning brightly as they squealed, trying to brace him up on their pudgy little legs.

"Eomma! Help!" They cried, laughing as their father's large hands and thick arms wrapped around them, pulling them up with him onto his knees. He kissed their squirming faces and set the on the ground, sitting back and laughing with them until Seungri took her chance and tackled him again, this time managing to pin him, the twins joining in to revenge tickle him. 

"Yah! Yah! Mercy, mercy!"

Seungri nodded to the twins with a smirk and her tiny accomplices pulled away. She leaned down, though, and kissed him, her grin returning when she felt his hands on her hips. 

"Ew!" The children squealed, turning on their mother and poking her to get her to stop. "Ew!"

She let up, but made eye contact with her husband, who nodded back at her with a smirk. She got off him, but immediately attacked the closest twin with kisses, Daesung repeating the process on the other toddler, both of them sending peals of high laugher across the mid-afternoon park.

* * *

When Daesung parked the car outside their home, he couldn't help but smile. 

The twins were passed out in the back seat, exhausted thoroughly from their long playdate and a hearty dinner with the other three members. Jiyong always loved to coo at them, Seunghyun made faces and begged for food with them and Yongbae was a childcare godsend. Yes, he had expected them to be snoozing in the back, lulled by the dark, the soft music and the rhythmic motion. He hadn't expected Seungri to be out cold too, though. 

Her blonde hair had been thrown into disarray during their wrestling and she no longer had the luxury of short hair to shake out. She'd undone her messed up braid and retied it in a messy ponytail, leaving her bangs to the catasrophe they were without a brush. Jiyong had fixed it, mostly, but even he said it could only be fixed with a hot shower and good conditioner.

He brushed them out of her eyes, noticing the bags she had under her eyes during their professional time were gone. Like this, asleep against a carseat, she looked twenty again, like she had just launched her first single, her hair still black and straight, short. Not that she seemed to have been keeping up witht he aging process since then - even awake, she was still markedly the youngest, winkleless and effortlessly balancing snark and aegyo. Daesung could not be more lucky to have her as his woman, his wife, the mother of his children. 

He quietly got out of the car, leaving it running as to not wake his family. He opened the front door then went back to the car, gently unbuckling his twins, holding one on each arm and beaming stupidly when they curled into him, one cooing a soft  _appa_  as they cuddled closer. He moved upstairs, gently laying the little ones down and stripping them out of their day clothes, deciding that it didn't really matter if they slept more or less naked. It was summertime and their family lived alone. Once he finally managed to get his babies to release him and he tucked them in with a musical goodnight, he went back down to the car, shut it off and gently disentangled Seungri from her resting place, cradling her as best he could and nudging the door of the car and the house shut with his foot. 

Seungri's head rolled into him, but otherwise, she was completely unaffected. So much like they were trainees again.

* * *

There were so many times before their debut, especially when Seungri was first introduced to them, that their lovely little maknae's body just wasn't used to the rigorous and oftentimes painful training. She had been dancing most of her life up to that point, but her body didn't understand that when it wanted to collapse, to give up, that she had to keep going, that she needed to be able to go for hours at a time without letting up. Her lungs, too, needed to learn to keep her whole body going. Her body needed to dance at the same time that her voice needed to sing and it was a steep and harsh learning curve. Seunghyun didn't dance when he rapped, so he could focus on just his dancing. Jiyong and Yongbae had been dancing and singing since before Seungri had gotten into highschool. 

Daesung had been the one, then, to pick her up when she passed out from exhaustion in the dance hall and bring her back to the dorms. He understood the struggle she was going through, having had to adjust not two years before. So, he took a lot of pity, then sympathy, on her and helped her. He made sure to bring as much extra food as he could just in case she didn't have any, would help her get water when the other hyungs asked for it and would carry her more often than naught back to their shared rooms. They built a lot of trust that way, a unconscious bond between the youngest members that would follow them even through the rougher patches in their relationship. 

Seungri had been a handful once she'd become legal - alcohol, clubbing and many, varied and forever passing boyfriends that didn't even have the chance to make media coverage before she'd blown through them. She liked attention - maybe starved by the other hyungs or not noticing what he'd given her - and was never particularly picky about what kind it was so long as it wouldn't get her in trouble with YG. She came alive in the night, gaining the kind of praise she seemed to long after. 

It was one more night, five years into their career, when she came back in the early hours of the morning, surprisingly sober, and collapsed on his bed, wrapping her chilled form around him. 

"Is something wrong?" He murmured, rolling onto his side to instinctively wrap her in his arms, programmed now by so many years of caring for her. "Did something happen?"

"No." She murmured, crawling closer. "Is it wrong for me to want to cuddle with my hyung?"

"No, no. You just don't do it anymore."

"Yeah, well, I forgot how nice it was. Sue me."

Daesung just rolled his eyes at her, closing his eyes again and letting her rest there.

She had slowed down after that. Not so much with the clubbing - "You gonna stop a girl who loves to dance from dancing?" - but with her partners. She had less boyfriends (not to mention less time for them), though she still didn't keep them very long. It was only when Daesung himself got more long-term girlfriends that her stream of boyfriends stopped. After a simple, mutual breakup, Seungri had come to him again, sliding into his bed sometime around midnight. 

"You okay?" She asked tentitively, sounding almost like she was forced here.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He returned, not bothering to look at her now. 

Through the mattress, he felt her huff, then she slapped his arm. "You don't have to be a dick about it."

"I'm not. You don't have to stay here. I don't need to be coddled."

She sat up, like she was angry, but then fell back, pouting at the side of his face. "I was really jealous when you started to date her."

That caught his attention. "What?"

"I was jealous." She repeated it like there was no shame in her feelings. He supposed that Seungri's honesty had never abandoned her and that was better than not being able to anticipate her mind. "Really jealous."

"Wha- Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why do you think? She was pushy, arrogant and self-absorbed."

"I already know your character traits." He deadpanned. 

"Ass." She slapped his arm again. "She wasn't fair to you."

"That doesn't explain why you're jealous."

"If you have to be stuck with someone who is all of those things, the least she can be is someone who understands your schedule, right?"

He barked a laugh. "Offering yourself, are you?"

"Yeah."

He blinked. "What?"

"Yes. I am. Can I be your girlfriend?"

Well. Let it never be said that Seungri was a modest person. 

* * *

Seungri controlled the pace of their dating, confidence spilling off her. She bought their promise rings, practically proposed to him when she was trying to get him to do it. She evens poke over him when they were planning their wedding. But that was okay.

She was the most confident on the outside, a professional suave entertainer. She was the perfect blend of cheeky, cute, sarcastic, humourous, playful and sensual. But inside, behind closed doors and blonde hair and sparkly outfits, she was a very insecure person. She needed affirmation of her worth to Bigbang, didn't know resolutely what YG thought of her, nor could she quite place herself in the music industry. She'd been laughed at for trying to be sexy, got mocked for being cutesy, didn't seem to get a solid win at any angle. But that's what Daesung loved the most about her. 

She was a very insecure person, but she never succumbed to it. Sure, she occasionally needed a boost, a compliment or a hug from one of her bandmates and vice versa. She was never one to shy away from pressure, working as hard as she could, never sacrificing her effort just because she'd reached fame. If there was anything Bigbang's rise to fame had taught her, it was that focus, passion and constant effort was the lifeblood of success. No amount of clubbing, dancing, singing or drunkenness could change her opinion on it. And that soft, human weakness accompanies by her hard, human resolve was what attracted Daesung so strongly, ensnared him enough to date then marry her. All of that complex mess what what made Seungri  _his_  wonderful Little Seunghyun. 

* * *

When Daesung woke up that morning, he had to stifle his squeals. 

The twins, sometime in the night, had crawled in on them and wrapped themselves around Seungri, who was snuggling them tightly, humming  _Gotta Talk To You_  in her sleep. He gently laid back down, wrapping the three of them in his arms and pulling them close, nuzzling into Seungri's splayed, blonde mess and one of the twins' dark bramble patch. It didn't matter to him that it was slightly uncomfortable, he could tell that they hadn't been washed and dearly needed it or that Seungri had drooled a little bit. He adored his little family to death and there was no way to thank Seungri for giving it to him, nor too many times for him to tell her that he loved her. 


End file.
